Tag Archives: Miami Herald

Advocating for Women

1978 was a turning point in my life, and today’s official statement from the U.S. Supreme Court causes me to remember that particular year.

Early nurturing from my mother, Thelma Englert Loika, led to opportunities to experience women. I discovered they were a source of security, inspired by loyalty and devotion. Women can be incredibly alluring, will cater to curiosity, nod constantly up-and-down during polite conversation and taste incredibly interesting.

All those tactile sensations were in play when a certain woman, Sarah, flashed herself in front of me. I wholeheartedly gave in, even while Sarah was introducing her parents into our life of mutually satisfying physical pleasures. Sarah was 38; I was 35.

Sarah’s parents suspected our emissions would create an offspring, and those Egyptian Jews were right.

I volunteered for us to get married, becoming betrothed during January 1978 in a tourist-trendy ceremony in the justice of the peace’s wedding chapel/office in the celebrity-rich town of Golden Beach, Florida. The only music I remember came from a background FM radio station, with the whole event taking half an hour.

After saying goodbyes to our respective families, Sarah and I couldn’t wait to undress and fuck like rabbits.

Again and again.

Once early March rolled around, after I refused mother-in-law Edith’s demand to end my own mother’s influence, the happiness of welcoming my own child into the world no longer excited my in-laws.

While I sat on the front stoop of our Miami Shores garden-adorned apartment building, trying to keep a frosty bottle of champagne cool, Edith took Sarah to the ghetto side of town for an illegal abortion. As I walked resignedly back to our apartment and sat upon the bargain-basement couch, my phone rang 10 minutes later.

“It’s Edith,” she said. With just a few words, Edith explained all in just a few words. “Sarah has undergone an abortion. You need to look after her. We’ll be home in about 10 minutes.” Then she hung up.

What? What the fuck? How did this happen? Sarah couldn’t talk it over with me?

After the two of them appeared, I walked around in a fog. Sarah told me nothing but went to bed. Two days later, I filed for divorce.

I suppose people would wonder why I support women’s rights then. Well, I always have. And why would I want to use my personal experience to impose more impediments to the lives of women?

No way. I received too much pleasure from women, especially considering the inconveniences they experience, to control their reproductive rights. I love women!

While I was awaiting the October court date, a front-page story in the Miami Herald’s Aug. 11, 1978 living-today section carried my photo, touting my Miami Jaycee civic reputation as a “dissident” and “suffragist”.

The wonderment brought about by surprise mass publicity caused me to pen a paean:

MEN WHO LOVE WOMEN SUPPORT WOMEN’S RIGHTS.

Now it’s June 24, 2022, and the U.S. Supreme Court just declared a mockery of the New World Order. Once again, women’s voices are being heard about freedom and America.

Being a man, and thereby logically inferior, I offer my contribution to this crucial time. American women need to “remind” men that Men who love women support women’s rights.

Juneteenth 2022 Book Progress Report

When I started writing my tell-all book, I had an agenda to chronicle my childhood, teen, 20s and 30s years, landing in Hollywood, California. (That’s where I became a disc jockey in West Los Angeles’ first and only pirate radio station, K-POT where you were “always one hit away … from another hit away … to another hit away …”)

Yeah, I excelled in that experience best explained by magician Jimi Hendrix. But why, oh why, am I befuddled by the 1970s?

That’s when I returned to Miami, regained my skin color, got married and divorced twice. Concurrently, I wrote for the iconic Miami News’ entertainment section while The Miami Herald engineered the News’ demise. Next, I became part-founder for a successful weekly business newspaper named Miami Today. But eventually, I left Miami, realizing Wife #2 was more married to Miami than to me.

Southeast Pennsylvania, specifically Bucks County, becomes the ultimate cherry in my life, where I hobnobbed with the rich and famous. That should be fun to recall.

It’s taken more than a year to restore a semblance of normalcy after the fire here. But everything is back in place, and it’s past time to pick up where my story left off. What happened before Doylestown and Alice? True-life moments happened in the blink of an eye, so how should I chronicle them?

Just start writing; that’s what. A vivid recall of life-changing scenes during those tumultuous years 1972-2003 is proceeding and has a deadline in mind: the 4th of July.

Wish me luck.